Save the Last Dance for Me
by Claudi Skies
Summary: "Will you dance with me?" "Sorry, but no Gryffindors." Heels, dances, The Weird Sisters, giggling girls, jealousy, candles, Houses, Graduation Ball, Dramione! Post-war.


**Hey guys! I apologize to those of you that may be waiting for me to update "Crouching Lioness, Hidden Dragon"...I've been trying to figure out where I want to go with the story, and I promise to update soon! Well, in the meantime, I have another one-shot done here. The idea behind it just randomly came to me when I was at my school dance this past weekend haha. True story!**

**Just a few things to set the scene for the story: Let's just assume that all the characters in Harry's year come back for an "Eighth Year," regardless of their involvement in the war. And let's pretend that Lavender Brown survived...she's mentioned in one small part just to fit the story. So yes, this my take on a Graduation Ball fic! The actual graduation ceremony was held earlier in the day (so all the boring stuff has been said and done) and now it's evening. :)**

**Disclaimer: I really wish I owned Harry Potter...oh well, writing stories about the characters is good enough for me! :) So The Weird Sisters are back in this story, and I envision their songs as something a bit different from their movie versions.**

**Please enjoy!**

* * *

><p>The Graduation Ball for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Class of 1999 (technically 1998) was in full swing. A crowd of students were mingling and dancing in partners or among groups of friends to the live performance of The Weird Sisters, the ever popular wizarding band that had been invited back by Headmistress McGonagall for this grand and momentous occasion.<p>

The Great Hall had been completely redecorated and set up so that there were clusters of four-person tables covering half of it and a makeshift dance floor taking up the other half—it was very much like the 1994 Yule Ball arrangements. As it was the Graduation Ball, the Hogwarts staff and Head students had unanimously agreed that the color scheme would be an array of yellow, blue, red, and green with a dash of black, bronze, gold, and silver—the beloved colors of the four Houses.

The Head Girl, the one and only Hermione Granger, had proposed a dress code that required all graduates to wear dress robes of the primary color of their own House. The Head Boy, Ernie Macmillian, hadn't exactly been thrilled at the prospect of being fully and ridiculously decked out in bright yellow like some creature of the Muggle world (not because he was ashamed of his House color…he just personally wasn't partial to yellow), and so the Hufflepuff had suggested that instead of wearing dress robes, the boys could wear colored vests corresponding to the color of their respective Houses over white dress shirts that were paired with black formal trousers.

Hermione had been rather hesitant to agree with this idea because she was a strong devout believer in traditions, especially school traditions such as wearing dress robes to ceremonious events, but McGonagall had readily given her consent because she was sure that some of the male students would throw a fit if they were forced to be dressed head to toe in one solid color. (For girls, it's more than normal…but a boy wearing all yellow, blue, red, or green when it's not even supposed to be a uniform?) And thus, the Gryffindor had grudgingly pushed aside her values to make an exception just this once.

Said Head Girl was now seated between her two best friends and fellow war heroes at their table, taking a break from dancing to take off her heels, which were killing her feet. It seemed like she wasn't the only one who was glad to be rid of them—as she looked around, there were countless pairs of high heels littering the ground and most of the girls on the dance floor appeared to be barefoot.

"Thank Merlin I wasn't born a girl!" Ron Weasley commented as he winced at her Merlin-knows-how-many inch stilettos.

Harry Potter shook his head in disbelief, giving a small chuckle. "I don't know how you manage, Hermione. Those look absolutely lethal."

"They're death traps, I tell you!" Ron bluntly interjected.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her boys. "I assure you that they can be the reason for badly sprained ankles and such, but being a girl means that you are expected to tolerate them—especially if you want to look taller."

The infamous Chosen One raised an inquisitive eyebrow, puzzled and intrigued. "What is with girls and looking taller? And what's wrong with those flat shoes—"

Ron loudly yawned in an exaggerated fashion, effectively cutting off his best mate. "As much as I'd _love _to discuss the different types of shoes with you _girls_, I'm going to go to the food tables and eat. Like _real men_ do." He shot Harry a pointed look that was a cross between amusement and fake disappointment before standing up and walking away.

"_Girls_?" Harry forcefully slammed his palms down on the table as he furiously bolted out of his chair. "I'll show him! See you later, Hermione." He patted her shoulder and took off to give the ginger-haired boy a piece of his mind.

Hermione stared at his retreating form and smiled to herself. They were still such children sometimes. Perhaps she really was the only sensible one in The Golden Trio. Well, boys would be boys.

"Hey, Hermione."

She glanced up from the punch she had been drinking and set down her goblet. "Oh, hi Ernie." Tensing, she slipped into Head Girl mode and began to fire off questions. "Is something wrong? Did someone get hurt? Do we need to call for Madam Pomfrey? Is Professor McGonagall—"

The Hufflepuff held up his hands to stop the rambling Gryffindor. "Okay, Hermione, calm down! No one's hurt." When she sighed in relief, he cleared his throat before gallantly bowing and holding out his hand. "I was just wondering if you'd like to dance."

"Oh." Hermione laughed at herself as she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "Well, if you don't mind that I'll be dancing barefoot."

Ernie grinned down at her and helped her up from the chair. "Not at all."

"This should be fun." Hermione allowed him to lead her towards the dance floor.

"Even more fun than that one time we got to skip classes to make an urgent run to Hogsmade under McGonagall's orders?" The Head Boy asked mischievously.

"Whatever are you talking about, Ernie? Skipping class is never fun." Hermione sniffed in disdain. He laughed, and she could not help but join in.

* * *

><p>"Draco, come dance with me!" Pansy Parkinson commanded as she incessantly tugged at his left hand.<p>

Draco Malfoy refilled his empty goblet with the hand that wasn't being harassed, shooting her a cool glare out of the corner of his eye. "I've already danced with you, Pansy."

"Only once! You danced with some nameless Ravenclaw girl twice! You even danced with a few Hufflepuffs!" The Slytherin girl protested.

"We've already gone over this, Pansy." The Prince of Slytherin warned.

"I know. Well, at least you haven't danced with any Gryffindors yet." The witch plucked at his sleeve. "Please, Drakey?"

"Don't call me that." Brushing her off, he was rather disturbed that this clingy girl had been observing him so carefully. "Ask someone else. I'm not in the mood to dance."

Pansy released an exasperated huff. "Fine, but you owe me a dance later." She dramatically turned on her heel and sauntered away. Draco silently wondered who her next poor victim would be, but he was glad to be rid of her.

"Trouble in paradise, Malfoy?"

The blond looked up to see the idiotic duo smirking at him from across the table. "I could say the same to you, Weasley." He sneered as he took a sip of punch.

Ron's face immediately hardened. "What do you know? Hermione and I aren't even together anymore." The redhead retorted defensively. Beside him, Harry firmly clasped his shoulder.

"And the same goes for Pansy and me. The only difference is that you're still in love with her." Draco snidely retaliated.

Ron's face turned as red as his hair. "I—it's none of your bloody business, you ferret!" He sputtered.

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I thought we painfully agreed to try to be civil to each other, Weasel."

"It worked for the entire year because we rarely crossed paths. But now, I know that it's bloody impossible to remain civil with an ex-D—"

"Ronald Weasley! Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence!" A certain brunette's unmistakable voice shrilled. The petite witch stomped up to the scene and jabbed her ex-boyfriend in the chest with her index finger. "Everyone agreed to not bring up the past when we returned to school last August, and you're going to ruin everything on our last night as students by allowing your emotions to run rampant like a hippogriff? On second thought, I think that even Buckbeak has more control over his rampages than you have over your emotions! If that's the case, then kindly do all of us a favor by transfiguring yourself into a hippogriff and fly away!"

It was silent at the refreshments table, and the booming voices of The Weird Sisters were only a part of the inconspicuous background noise. All four individuals standing around the fountain of punch were glad that they were the only ones there at the moment. The color had drained from Ron's face, and he looked sickeningly pale. Harry was taken aback, his eyes wide as he balked at his best girl friend. Draco was positively speechless—had Hermione Granger, out of all people, just defended him? Against her own friend and former lover no less? He was also trying not to smirk; her little outburst was possibly the most entertaining thing he had heard all night.

"Um, Hermione, I…" Ron nervously scratched his head. "Sorry…"

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." Hermione snapped in her authoritative Head Girl voice.

"Right…" Ron reluctantly turned to Draco without looking at him. "Sorry." It took all of his will power to not tack on a derogatory name.

The blond shrugged dismissively. "Whatever, Weasley. Just watch your mouth."

The Great Hall was suddenly enveloped by raucous cheers from the dance floor, and all four of them soon knew why.

_Move your body like a hairy troll_

_Learning to rock and roll_

_Spin around like a crazy elf_

_Dancin' by himself_

"Bloody hell." Ron quietly cursed under his breath.

_Boggie down like a unicorn_

_No stoppin' till the break of dawn_

_Put your hands up in the air_

_Like an ogre, just don't care_

"The timing couldn't have been better, right Ronald?" Hermione smirked.

_Can you dance like a hippogriff?_

Ron frowned but wisely chose to sulk in defeat and trudge away without another word. Hermione burst into a fit of giggles that was soon accompanied by Harry's chortles. Draco let out a small chuckle. (What a bloody unlikely trio!)

"That was impressive, Granger."

The Gryffindors abruptly stopped laughing to exchange a surprised glance. Hermione tentatively offered a miniscule smile and lightly shrugged at the Slytherin. "He was being unnecessarily rude."

The smirk that he had been concealing made its presence known. "So was I."

Hermione pursed her lips as she regarded him with a discerning eye. But before she could say anything, a rowdy gaggle of giggling girls approached them and made their way around the table to fawn over Malfoy, who really was looking rather dashing in his Slytherin green vest and expensive leather shoes with his hands casually tucked into his pockets and a vacant expression on. She was astonished to see that there wasn't a single Slytherin girl (because none of them had on green dresses and as Head Girl, she basically knew everyone) and identified Lavender Brown and the Patil Sisters in the group.

So Malfoy was popular with _all_ the girls? Not just the Slytherin ones that she had seen worshipping his feet and trailing after him this entire year on a daily basis?

"Will you dance with me?" Lavender boldly latched onto his right arm, peering up at him through her thick lashes.

"And me next?" Padma Patil aggressively gripped onto his left arm, shooting the bubbly and flirtatious Gryffindor a dark look that went by unnoticed—that is, to everyone but the ever observant Hermione.

"I'm after!"

"Hey, what about me?"

"Me too!"

"Get in line!"

Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or sympathize—Malfoy appeared to be utterly irritated as he glowered at all of the girls around him. There must have been at least ten! He would be dancing for quite a while.

"Sorry, but no Gryffindors." He deadpanned.

Lavender and Parvati Patil were devastated; their dejected faces said it all. Hermione felt a surge of anger and resentment as she glared at the impassive blond. All thoughts of actually feeling sorry for him just flew out one of the antique glass windows.

Draco evenly met her eyes for a second before he swiftly grabbed Padma by the wrist. "Let's go."

The Ravenclaw nearly swooned and allowed him to drag her towards the dance floor. The flock of girls dutifully followed with Lavender and Parvati in tow. They weren't about to give up—they were Gryffindors, after all.

"That foul and loathsome cockroach!" Hermione exclaimed, but she noticed that her tone did not hold any real malice.

Harry put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Come on, Hermione. He's always been like that. What's new?"

"But I was so sure that he was different!"

"Well, sure, he's different and he's actually not that much of a git anymore. But he's still somewhat of a git. And apparently many girls find that attractive." Harry shrugged with a sniff before solemnly saying, "War doesn't always change everything about a person, Hermione."

"I know." Hermione said softly. The Second Wizarding War that had ended more than a year ago now was still a sensitive subject, and so the two friends left it at that.

"Care for a dance, madam?" Harry asked lightheartedly.

Hermione beamed. "Lead on, good sir. Just let me go get my shoes first."

"And later, we better go see what Ron's been up to."

* * *

><p>"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now ten o'clock and at this time, I would like to request that all students pair up with partners that are not of the same House for the next dance. I have only seen a few students branching out to dance with other students of other Houses, and they have set fine examples for rest of you. For those of you who think that I will not be able to tell whether you have honored my request, think again—I may not be young, but my eyes can still clearly distinguish green from blue, green from yellow, and so on."<p>

There was a chorus of groans, but everyone nonetheless began to search for a partner wearing a different color—no one wanted to be on the receiving end of McGonagall's wrath.

Amidst a throng of people, Hermione was at a loss as to who to pair up with. She wasn't exactly keen with the idea of dancing with someone she didn't know well, and the only boy in a different House she believed she was comfortable enough with was Ernie.

Well, it would have to be him then.

As she pushed past her classmates in search of the Head Boy, she suddenly felt a pair of arms ensnare her waist. Breathing in sharply, she went rigid.

"Dance with me, Granger?" The not-so mystery man whispered into her ear. Only one person who called her "Granger" was daring enough to approach her like this.

"Malfoy." Hermione struggled to free herself from his iron grasp but soon gave up with an exasperated huff, turning in his arms instead and putting space between them. "Whatever happened to your 'No Gryffindors' policy?" She bit out harshly.

The blond smirked at her, and she felt her heartbeat involuntarily speed up. But in her defense, his smirk just had that kind of an effect on girls. It was totally normal. She wasn't in love with him or anything. Or even the slightest bit attracted to him, for the matter.

"I just abolished it."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh really? And why would you do such a thing?"

He drew her in so that they were almost standing chest to chest, closing the distance between them. "Because I want you—"

"What?" Hermione almost screeched.

"—to dance with me." Draco finished with an amused waggle of his eyebrows.

"Oh, right! Um." She felt like a complete fool at the moment—a very embarrassed fool with red cheeks. Wait, he wanted to dance with her?

He chuckled at her discomfort. "Granger, are we just going to idly stand here while everyone twirls around us?"

Hermione hadn't even noticed that the music had started, but now that she did, it was a waltz. _Waltzing_ with Draco Malfoy? Merlin!

"Granger, you really know how to keep a bloke waiting. Come on." He took his left hand off her waist and grabbed her right hand. Gesturing with a tilt of his head, he motioned for Hermione to rest her left hand on his shoulder.

Godric…she couldn't believe that she was actually going to do this. But it's the Graduation Ball, so…might as well have some fun with everyone, right? It's just a harmless dance.

Regaining her composure, she stepped with him in time with the music. "So how did you get away from your fan club?"

"What fan club?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Those girls." She clarified.

"Oh. Them?" He shrugged indifferently before a sly grin pulled at his lips. "Jealous, Granger?"

"You wish, Malfoy." She sighed. "You better not step on my toes."

He scoffed. "I'm not Longbottom or Weasley, Granger." When she slapped his shoulder, he rolled his eyes and quickly amended with, "I'm a Malfoy! I don't step on a lady's toes like some inept tosser, alright?"

Hermione gazed at him incredulously for a few seconds before bursting into surprised peals of laughter. She had half expected to hear "I don't associate myself with mudbloods" or something along those lines following "I'm a Malfoy!" But she knew that she wasn't being fair to him. That word hadn't left his mouth since…well, since the end of the war that was rarely spoken of.

"What are you thinking about, Granger? That brain of yours never takes a break, does it?" Draco asked in good humor as he effortlessly lifted her from the ground and spun her around as if she were weightless.

She didn't trust herself to say anything until the soles of her feet touched the floor again, and he misinterpreted her silence. A storm was brewing in his gray eyes, and she thought that it was an absolutely stunning sight. Wait a second…

"You're not thinking about that bloke, are you?" His stoic face masked his emotions, but he sounded like he was trying to control his (short) temper. (Which he was. Never rile up a Malfoy!)

"Who?" Hermione forced herself to stop swimming in his eyes and furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Macmillian." He spat the name out venomously.

"Ernie?" She questioned in surprise. "Why would I be thinking about him?"

"You two certainly looked chummy a while ago." He stated almost accusingly.

"Chummy?" Her eyebrows shot up, and she gave a short laugh of disbelief. "You were watching me?"

When he didn't say anything and averted his eyes instead, she grew intrigued. "Jealous, Malfoy?" She smugly used his own words against him.

He was quiet for a moment before his trademark smirk reappeared. Gray clashed with brown.

"You wish, Granger."

And the storm passed. His eyes were shining with…something. She didn't know what it was (and that was rather frustrating), but it made her content for some odd reason.

Eyes are the "window to the soul," huh? Draco Malfoy's soul must be as mysterious as his eyes were then. She smiled in amusement at that possibility, and they waltzed in compatible silence for a while.

"This reminds me of the Yule Ball." He suddenly remarked.

"How very astute of you, Malfoy. I planned this ball with the Yule Ball in mind." She admitted.

"Ah, that would make sense." He nodded, and the hand on her waist tightened. If she hadn't known better, she would have described the hold as possessive. "You know, you were beautiful that night."

Beautiful? That was definitely unexpected. The blush was back tenfold. "Thank you…" She cast her eyes down, feeling almost shy, and watched their feet move together in perfect harmony.

There was a pregnant pause.

"But you're even more beautiful tonight."

Her wide eyes flew up to his face on their own accord, and she was transfixed once again by his deep gray eyes that were shimmering with the same unfathomable emotion for a few seconds before growing suspicious. "Why do you keep on complimenting me, Malfoy? Is there something that you want from me?"

The music ended at that precise moment.

"I think that I'm reenacting the 'No Gryffindors' policy until…"

He trailed off with a contemplative expression plastered on his face and pulled her into a crushing hug.

"Save the last dance for me."

Was all he said before he dropped his arms and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Hermione alone to her thoughts that were running rampant like a hippogriff.

* * *

><p>Harry slung an arm around each of his two best friends. "I can't believe we're graduating! Is it really our last night at Hogwarts?"<p>

"I wish we weren't, mate. We're going into the real world now—where a single mistake can cost you your salary." Ron shuddered.

"But Hermione will be there to keep us in check, won't you Hermione?" Harry heartily nudged the witch in question. When she didn't say anything, he tapped her on the shoulder. "Hermione?"

"Huh?" She glanced up at him, her eyes a bit unfocused.

"Are you alright?" The Boy Who Lived (Countless Times) inquired, his voice laced with genuine concern.

"Just fine. Why?" Her eyes were slowly coming into focus.

"Because you seem so distracted." Ron explained through a mouthful of food.

"Really? I'm sorry—I must just be getting a bit tired." She smiled ruefully.

"But it's only eleven thirty." Harry stared at her strangely. "And why aren't you getting angry at Ron for talking with his mouth full?"

"Oh." Was all she said. Her best friends traded worried looks that she didn't catch.

In all honesty, there was nothing wrong with her. And Ron was right—she was just _extremely_ distracted. All because of a particular blond wizard who had once been her most hated school enemy. After he had asked her to save the last dance of the night for him, she had been having an internal war with herself for the past hour and a half.

She had admitted to herself half an hour ago that she wasn't opposed to the idea of dancing with him again. In fact, she was actually looking forward to it—she realized that she quite liked dancing with him. He was a flawless dancer, and they complemented each other nicely. But to dance the last dance with him?

It was a widely known norm that the last dance was always the most special one—it was usually one that you shared with your significant other, if you had one that is. She had originally planned to dance with her boys, and the three of them could form an awkward but memorable triangle on the dance floor. He had completely thrown her off her axis with those words, and she wasn't sure what to do now. Should she really save the last dance for him?

She reasoned that perhaps he had realized that they waltzed well together and so he wanted to end the night with a skilled dancer for a partner. If this really were the case, she could see why. More than half of the girls he had danced with after her didn't seem to have any coordination whatsoever, and that made her very suspicious. Hadn't they all learned the proper etiquettes of ballroom dancing in their fourth year? Hermione was sure that it was nearly impossible to forget something that had been drilled into their mind and body, so this led to her conclusion that the girls had just been "accidentally" stepping on his feet on purpose.

Irritating attention seekers, the lot of them.

But then, he wouldn't have embraced her, right? It was a habit between friends to embrace, but she and Malfoy weren't in any way friends. Sure, they were acquaintances, but that didn't explain what was going on between them. There was something more…something intangible and inexplicable that was driving her insane.

Hermione Granger didn't understand the infuriatingly handsome Slytherin, and she was determined to find out what was going on. It was in her nature to do so—the desire to understand everything.

Her mind was made up. She would save the last dance for him…just to figure out his true intentions, of course. And his grudge against Ernie—what was all that about? This decision was purely platonic, if that word could even be used to describe their…relationship? Hermione bit her lip. She and Malfoy were something and nothing at the same time. How mind-boggling!

"Hermione, let's go get some more food and then we can find a good spot on the dance floor for the last dance!" Ron's ecstatic voice yanked her out of her confusing thoughts.

"Actually," she hesitantly began, "can we go dance now? I kind of… saved the last dance for someone."

"Who?" Harry and Ron simultaneously demanded to know.

"No one really." She covered lamely. "Well, it's just something that Professor McGonagall said…I should honor requests, right?"

"If the request is reasonable, then sure…I guess." Harry looked as uncertain as he sounded.

"Great. I'm glad that you two understand!" Hermione whisked them onto the dance floor before either of them could say anything more.

She hated keeping things from her friends. Malfoy better be worth it. And by that, she meant that he better have answers to her questions. There was nothing else to it, of course.

* * *

><p>"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now eleven fifty and at this time, I would like to request that all students pair up with a partner or partners of their choice for the very last dance of the evening. I hope that all of you have thoroughly enjoyed this Graduation Ball, which was organized by our Head Girl, Miss Granger, and Head Boy, Mr. Macmillion."<p>

There was a deafening roar of applause.

"Please remember that you all have a busy morning of packing and preparing for the return home tomorrow before a short closing ceremony, so off to bed after this song!"

The Great Hall was eerily silent as it seemed to dawn on all of the students that this really was the end—tonight was their last night and the night would be over soon. The only sounds that could be heard were the ruffling of clothes and clacking of heels as the graduates quietly paired up and talked in hushed tones.

Once again, Hermione found herself in the middle of a sea of people. But this time, she was searching for the platinum blond, who was nowhere in sight. Even in her heels, she had to stand on her tip-toes to see over some heads.

"Looking for someone?"

She felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind, and she smiled to herself before slowly twisting around to gaze up at him.

"Not you." She smirked coyly. Hermione internally wondered where all this sass was coming from. Was she actually attempting to flirt with Draco Malfoy? Like those attention seekers? (Godric! Merlin! Anyone!)

"Oh really?" He flashed his heartbreaking smirk. "Then why did you stare at me for a whole hour and a half? You just couldn't take your eyes off me, could you?"

Her jaw nearly dropped open, but she caught herself just in time. "You're an insufferable ferret, you know that?"

"Better a ferret than a hippogriff." He shot back in a teasing manner.

"Oh, but you do know that hippogriffs eat ferrets, right?" She countered with a smile.

"Well, they must have acquired a new diet years ago because I'm still alive. Buckbeak clearly wasn't interested in eating me back then." He nonchalantly replied.

She couldn't stop her jaw from falling open this time. Did he really just crack a joke about himself?

"What? Cat—or should I say ferret—got your tongue, Granger?" He chuckled. Hermione decided then that she rather liked this carefree and amiable Malfoy. If only he'd been like this before everything happened!

She shook her head in amazement. "I was right. You're really different, Malfoy."

"So people say." He shrugged. "But Buckbeak probably wasn't interested in eating me when he had the chance to because he didn't want to remove a perfect specimen like myself from the world—it would have been too great of a loss."

Hermione laughed as quietly as she could (because the Great Hall was still strangely devoid of loud noise), her entire body shaking with mirth. Who knew that Draco Malfoy had such a charming sense of humor? She told him so, and he immediately sobered.

"Charming..." The word smoothly rolled off his tongue. And there it was again—that peculiar look in his eyes. She was growing a bit flustered under his intense gaze.

"This one's going out to all the lovers out there. Hold each other tight, and keep each other warm." Lead Singer Myron Wagtail's voice rang out.

"Magic Works?" Draco and Hermione guessed the name of the song at the same time.

Hold on. _Lovers_?

The cellist, Merton Graves, pulled his chair forward and sat down in one fluid motion, poising his bow for the beginning chords of the slow and romantic song.

The candles in the Great Hall dimmed.

This was a big mistake. Hermione was beginning to panic. What was she doing? She and Malfoy weren't…

Draco reached up to gently skim the length of her face with his knuckles. "You think too much, Granger." His voice was like velvet, and she melted.

And before she knew it, she was snugly pressed against his glorious body, her chin rested on his left shoulder and his chin settled on her left shoulder. His arms encircled her waist while her arms still lay limp at her sides.

_And dance your final dance_

This was too sudden. This was too intimate. This was too…

_This is your final chance_

_To hold the one you love_

_You know you've waited long enough_

…right.

_So, believe_

_That magic works_

_Don't be afraid_

_Of being hurt_

_Don't let this magic die_

_The answer's there_

_Oh, just look in her eyes_

She slowly lifted her arms and draped them around his neck. They swayed together.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

_And make your final move_

_Don't be scared, she wants you to_

_Yeah, it's hard, you must be brave_

_Don't let this moment slip away_

He turned his face to the crook of her neck and breathed in her scent, memorizing all of the overwhelming sensations he was feeling at the moment.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

_Now, believe_

_That magic works_

_Don't be afraid_

_Afraid of being hurt_

_Don't let this magic die_

_The answer's there_

_Yeah, just look in her eyes_

Her eyes fluttered close, and she relished this satisfying feeling of completeness. What was it that she had wanted to ask him? Oh, whatever…none of it mattered anymore. She felt like a hole that she did not even know existed had just been filled. There had been something missing, but now she was whole. She felt…happy.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

_And don't believe that magic can die_

_No, no, no, this magic can't die_

His eyes opened, and he was aware of all of the couples or groups of friends around them, but he wasn't really seeing them. It was just him and Hermione. Just the two of them in this world.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

_So dance your final dance_

_Cause this is your final chance_

The song came to an end, and Hermione was surprised to find that her cheeks were wet. Had she been crying? Why?

Then suddenly, all of the candles went out and the Great Hall was pitch black. Startled cries and shocked gasps came from all four corners of the grand makeshift ballroom.

"What's going on?" She lifted her head up from his shoulder and looked up at him, though his face was masked by the darkness.

"I'm leaving tonight." There was a sense of urgency in his voice that was heavy with yet another emotion that she could not quite distinguish. Anguish perhaps? But why?

"What do you mean?" She wanted so desperately to be able to see his face, to try to read his emotions, to try to understand him better.

"I don't know when I'll be able to see you again."

And suddenly, a pair of lips brushed against hers. The sensation was electrifying.

It was a soft kiss that was slowly building into something so much more…something intangible and inexplicable that would leave her breathless. Emotions that had been stowed away were freed, and affections that had been denied were acknowledged.

Hermione knew then that there was something magical between them—something that had yet to be discovered. And something told her that it would be worth it. But was she willing to take the chance?

When they separated, both panting with passionately hidden desires, Draco pulled her close. "Because I want you to be a part of my future." He whispered into her ear.

She realized that this was his answer to the question that he had ignored before.

_I love you._

_I always have._

The candles flickered back to life, and he was gone. Hermione stood in a daze in the middle of the dance floor, and she slowly reached up to touch her tingling lips.

Secretly smiling to herself, she knew exactly what her future held. And she would welcome it with a pair of open arms and a set of running legs—straight into his awaiting arms.

_See you soon._

* * *

><p><strong>And there you have it! By the way, I just had to mention Merton Graves, the cellist in The Weird Sisters. I really think that it's a shame the movies didn't include him because cellos<strong>** rule! Well, I'm probably being biased here cause I'm a cellist myself. Haha anyways, how was it? :) ~Claudi Skies**


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